This town is colder now, I think it’s sick of us
It’s time to make our move, I’m shakin’ off the rust
I’ve got my heart set, on anywhere but here
I’m staring down myself, counting up the years
Steady hands, just take the wheel
And every glance is killing me
Time to make one last appeal
For the life I lead
Stop and stare
I think I’m moving but I go nowhere
Yeah, I know that everyone gets scared
But I’ve become what I can’t be, oh
Stop and stare
You start to wonder why you’re ‘here’ not ‘there’
And you’d give anything to get what’s fair
But fair ain’t what you really need
Oh, can you see what I see?
They’re tryin’ to come back, all my senses push
Untie the weight bags, I never thought I could
Steady feet, don’t fail me now
I’ma run till you can’t walk
Something pulls my focus out
And I’m standing down
Don’t you love it when lyrics sum up your life so completely??
Filed under Lyrics, Personal
This got into my head a while back, while some lady was pouring her heart out. I’d have loved to smack her ignorant *ahem* but in the name of peace, progress, and Islam I’m drawing a cartoon instead.
I must have done something really, really, bad in the past. Cause I’m now stuck, learning psych in, well, Syria. May the powers that be give me patience.
One of my cousins recently came down from Canada. Looking at her I swear I could see a reflection of my old, pre-jaded self. She was so enthusiastic, so willing to believe the best in any and every one, so disillusioned optimistic.
Like me, her life is Canada. The only ties she has to this country are her heritage and her husband. So when she went on for about an hour how it doesn’t matter where you are, what matters is who you are, and when she says that it was no picnic fighting, be it against society or ourselves, to be ourselves back in Canada, I really can’t argue with her. And then she goes on to say what difference is it being here? Same fight, different place. What matters is, are we the same people?
This is where I start ‘massaging my temples’ and ‘groaning in despair.’ Not because what she said was a load of bull. That’d be easier to take. But because what she said is, like I said, a reflection of me. My words. The words I believed in, I fought for, I was for my entire life.
And I’m reminded all over again of my broken dreams and my sore heart.
I think they’ve finally gotten to me.
My horrendously boring, redundant, studying-9-hours-a-day life has effectively driven me into the arms of Mc-freakin-Dreamy and the Surgical Dream Squad (for those who are blessed with TV-ignorance, see picture).
It’s a sad, sad day in the life of S&S.
And then I find out that episode 18 of season 3 is titled *drum roll*: Scars and Souvenirs, which after further googling turns out to be a name of an album by Theory of a Deadman. A Canadian band.
Hmmm…. not exactly the picture I would have chosen to rep my blog, but coincidence much? And, dare I download?
After a week, a week, of daily trips to our kind internet providers – whom we chose because of their superb customer service and also, their amazingly low prices, oh and their dedication and commitment to their customer’s happiness and not, not, the fact that they are the only ADSL internet providers in Syria – we finally found out – for our selves I may add – that the proxy server – or some other internet jargon I do not and have no desire to understand – had been changed and our daily trips to our kind, customer-caring, dedicated internet providers were in vain.
But that’s fine!
Because each and every trip there was during the most peaceful, easy-to-drive-in traffic you’ll ever see, and when we got there we were greeted with smiles and kind words, and an open parking space to boot, and they were ever so accommodating to our plug that wouldn’t fit into their outlet and didn’t make us go out and search for one in the limited time left before they closed and then send us home with a ‘working’ modem and refuse to give us instructions over the phone, and insist we come back the next day.
Nope. None of that happened.
Smooth sailing is what it is. Dealing with my kind, dedicated internet providers.
So you may think I’m nuts, taking issue with my kind, dedicated internet providers. Guess I’m just not used to having so much kindness lavished on me!
On the brighter side, it’s damn good to back online. Brace yourselves for a weeks-worth of posts 😀
I strongly suggest people hazard a gander at this.
I love seeing the light-hearted, Sufis-ticated (LOL @ Sayyid Mohammed in the comments) side of Islam. Takes away some the guilt all the.. umm… You Know Whos.. put on me for taking things with a pinch of humor. And laughing. AstagfurAllah.
Scenario: I was at the Ummayyed Mosque when I walked into a pillar (yes, I tend to walk into things regularly) and I let out an embarrassed giggle/snort. If looks could kill, à la Medusa, I’d be a stone pillar myself, caught eternally in a look of half-guilt, half-defiance at the entrence of the Ummayyed Mosque.
Then all the You Know Whos could take their students/children and point and say, self-righteously with that resonating echo of dread and forewarning:
“Beware the deadly lure of humor!! All right class, glares of gloom and doom in place? Annndd… MARCH!”
I know. I’m mean :)/:(/:?